Privacy, Or The Lack of It
by edmelon
Summary: Amu didn't think she'd ever have to live with her parents again. Not as a full-grown woman, at least. But oh was she wrong! Her parents are obsessive, her sister is out of control and Ikuto is honestly the most unhappy cat on earth. And she's got three months of this. Three months, thirteen weeks, ninety-one days… She's just gotta get through it. Amuto.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_ : Well, funny story, I was supposed to be practising original creative writing, but apparently I'm incapable of doing anything of my own when I still have like a million half-planned fanfics saved in my drafts. This being one of them. This has been in my drafts collecting dust for about four years now. It's time it saw the light of day, even if it is just a first chapter or so.

Either way, I hope you enjoy ^^

* * *

 _Summary:_ Amu didn't think she'd ever have to live with her parents again. Not as a full-grown woman, at least. But oh was she wrong! Her parents are obsessive, her sister is out of control and Ikuto is honestly the most unhappy cat on earth. And she's got three months of this. Three months, thirteen weeks, ninety-one days… She's just gotta get through it. Amuto.

 _-Title may be changed-_

* * *

You would think, presumably, that at twenty-five years of age, there would have been no other place that Amu would rather return to than her old family home; a cosy, comfortable little dwelling nicely tucked into the close-quartered suburbs of their busy city.

You would have thought that, being, as mentioned previously, a fair way into her twenties and being the confident, now independent adult that she was, that Amu would have loved nothing better than to escape the hustle and bustle of the cityscape and flee the pressures of adult life by retreating back into the loving, welcoming arms of her mother and father in the home where many glorious, golden childhood summers and warm winters were spent. But, had this been the case — had the woman in question been so positively ecstatic to be stood on the doorstep of her parents' home — then we wouldn't have a story and our favourite ex-Guardian wouldn't have been eyeing the threshold with such a look of dread that it may as well have been the gate to hell.

She raised a hand tentatively and her finger hovered over the doorbell, wavering, her outstretched arm frozen in midair...

"I... I can't do it..."

"If you're going to prolong our suffering, Amu," drawled a smooth, yet tired-sounding voice behind her; "then can I at least dump all this crap until you find the balls to ring the bell?"

Amu Tsukiyomi shot a withering look over her shoulder at the blue-haired man on the path behind her. Her husband was hunched beneath the weight of several boxes stacked in his arms, leaning against their small mountain of suitcases and looking as though he would rather have been anywhere else in the world... And Amu had to agree with him.

"S-Shut up, Ikuto!" She stammered, pink in the face, locking her gaze back onto the little white button just beyond her finger's reach which would sound throughout the house... And signal the beginning of the end. "And, besides!" she went on haughtily, sensing a chance to delay her doom further. "I'm not the one with the balls here! Why don't you do it if I'm so useless?"

Silence met her ears and Amu reveled in that small moment of triumph over her husband.

Until that is when an arm reached over her shoulder; past her still-poised hand—

"Ikuto!"

 _DING—DONG!_

But, alas, it was too late.

Ikuto's slender fingertips retreated from the button of the doorbell and he returned to the boxes he'd abandoned on the pathway.

Footsteps sounded from somewhere inside. This was it. The house was idyllic... But...

The door was a blur as her father practically tore it from its hinges, the calm air of the tranquil neighbourhood shattered by the sudden, ear-splitting shriek;

 _"AMU-CHAAAAN~!"_

There was no time to respond. Before Amu knew it, she was in the bone-crushing death grip that her father called a hug.

"Ah, Papa-!"

 _"Amu-chan, darling!"_

"Hello, M-Mama,"

Midori kissed her daughter on the cheek and tried to pry her husband from her. "Tsumugu, dear let her go, she's turning blue."

"Oops! Sorry, my baby bird, but it's been too long! So fantastic to see you again!"

Their doting was cut off by a grumble behind them. "Hello to you too,"

"Ikuto-kun!" Amu's mother smiled genuinely whilst her husband merely glared at the man who had so dared to whisk his little girl off her feet years earlier. "I didn't see you behind the luggage! Come in! Tsumugu will help you with those!" And she shot him such a pointed stare that he didn't dare argue. "Come on in!"

Amu's father begrudgingly trudged over to help like a little kid ordered to go his bedroom. Ikuto sent her a desperate look. He was going to hate this already and they hadn't even gotten over the doorstep yet. With no escape now, Amu picked up what bags she could carry and followed her mother inside. It was still just as it had been when she was small; still as it was when she'd last left its doors for good, the only exception being that the walls were now covered further by years upon years worth of new photo frames. There was her parents on their latest trips; over here Ami's school photos hung like a perfect timeline and here in the living room there was proudly displayed a collage of snaps from Amu's wedding day. There was distinctly more of her than there was of Ikuto, but then again she hadn't expected much less from the adoring father of the bride. Amu smiled fondly at them, placing down her things at the bottom of the stairs.

"Thank you so much, Mama," she said, admiring the latest set of bird-related shots that hung up by the staircase. They must have been part of her father's latest project. "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

Midori shook her head and pulled her daughter in for a short, sweet embrace as though she were five years old again instead of twenty-five. "Amu, darling, we're so happy to have you home again!"

Amu laughed nervously as her mother pulled away, Her parents were dear to her and caring and kind-hearted above all else, but sometimes she wondered if they ever really got used to her leaving them so abruptly. Particularly her father. She had hoped that this would help him cope once Ami grew wings of her own, but seeing this…

As if on cue, both men appeared in the doorway, hauling in the last of the heavy luggage and enormous cardboard boxes that contained most of her and Ikuto's life. Whilst they'd been packing, Ikuto had suggested that it was probably easier for them to live in those big boxes rather than pack up all their stuff and move here. And she wasn't quite sure if he'd been entirely joking.

"Come on, come on, Amu dear," her mother piped up, taking her hand and leading her towards the stairs. "The room's all set up for you. Make yourself at home again!"

"Might as well." Ikuto drawled behind her, just low enough for her to hear. "We've got three long months, after all…"

She cringed visibly as they made their way up the stairs.

* * *

"I can't believe we're homeless."

" _Ikuto!"_ Amu chastised, dumping the last of her clothes into the drawer and shoving the empty suitcase into a corner with all the others. Finally - _finally! -_ they had been left alone in what was to be their bedroom for the next three months. She was relieved, to say the least, she had half-expected her father to stand over them the entire time they were in there just to keep his eye on her. She remembered the first time Ikuto had been permitted to spend the night in their home when she was eighteen. She shuddered. Her dad hadn't left the two of them alone together for more than two seconds. Given his way, he wouldn't have allowed _anyone_ near his baby bird had Amu's mother not intervened.

"Don't be like that!" she went on. "It was generous of my parents to let us stay here! You know they've got their hands full with Ami!"

Behind her, Ikuto grumbled, unconvinced. He was slouched up against the doorframe, eyeing their new (yet, thankfully, _temporary_ ) bedroom with an air of disdain usually reserved for grotty hotel rooms or hideous decor. Amu caught his eye and gave him the firmest look she could manage which was pretty difficult, if she was honest. She wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of staying here for the next few months or so herself. Just prying herself out of her father's arms to _go upstairs_ and unpack had been enough of a challenge. The man acted as though she'd gone missing for the last few years. She'd only lived twenty minutes away!

And, besides, it wasn't as if it was an _awful_ bedroom that they'd been given. Really, she was surprised enough that they'd been granted a double bed as opposed to two singles on opposite ends of the house. Amu was sure that was her mother's doing. Her dad probably wasn't very happy about it, but it didn't matter. He couldn't deny the fact that his little girl was now a full-grown married woman who at least deserved to be trusted in a room with her own husband.

Said husband wasn't exactly pleased though. She wasn't entirely sure that Ikuto had quite forgiven her for this yet. She almost felt guilty. After weeks of stress and uncertainty, he had been positively relieved when she'd come home a month earlier and announced that all of their prayers were answered because she _finally_ had found somewhere to stay before they were kicked out of their apartment.

When she told him it was her parent's house? Not so much.

"Your dad hates me." Ikuto said simply, straightening out an already perfectly neat stack of music sheets on their bedside table. Amu half wanted to go over there and hug him. She was sure that somewhere deep, deep down Ikuto was a little disappointed that he didn't have his father-in-law's approval, no matter how amusing he found Tsumugu's level of doting.

"Never let me become that kind of parent, Amu."

Amu laughed brightly for the first time that day. "There's no chance of you becoming _any_ kind of parent. Not when Mama and Papa are gonna be watching us like hawks for the next three months."

Ikuto half-chuckled, half-sighed and quickly looked over his shoulder at the hallway before ambling over and wrapping his arms around her. "I'm not going to _last_ three months like that, Amu." he purred in her ear and she tried to resist the delightful tingling sensation that crept its way up her spine. Knowing the way he made her body react, she wasn't so sure that _she'd_ be able to last three months either.

"Well, look at it this way," she tried to reason, quickly untangling herself from his grasp and moving on to another one of the many boxes that cluttered the floor. "You've got three months of amusement ahead of you. My dad's going to be shitting himself the entire time you're here. I know you like to test your limits with him."

Ikuto sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I'm too stressed out for this."

There was a pause. Amu set down the things she'd been unpacking and looked over at him. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt deep in her gut. She knew how much he'd been dreading this. He looked exhausted.

"I'm sorry, Ikuto." she said softly. And she meant it. "But we need someplace to live."

He didn't answer.

"Hey," Amu abandoned their things and went over to him, winding her arms around his middle, burying her face in his shirt. "Oh, come on, Ikuto," she pleaded, quickly doing the math in her head and adding, as if it made everything better; "Just ninety-one days to—"

"No."

Amu sighed heavily into his chest. In the background, she faintly heard her Mama's voice beckoning her downstairs.

Like she'd said — just ninety-one days to go.


	2. Chapter 2

-l-l-

Who was it who said that " _family is one of nature's masterpieces"_? Amu couldn't quite remember. Honestly, the answer was definitely there somewhere in the back of her mind — somewhere in some dark, long-forgotten cupboard, gathering dust and cobwebs amongst hundreds of other pieces of useless trivia she'd collected over the years. Like the fact that an iguana can stay underwater for twenty-eight minutes or that that annoying layer of lint that builds up in a person's pockets is actually called a ' _gnurr'_...

Whatever. Amu would remember later, probably. It would come to her at some irrelevant moment. At 2 a.m. perhaps or on her way to work or maybe later on when she was doing the laundry… But it didn't matter. Amu couldn't for the life of her remember where that little quote had come from, but she thought it quite apt as she and her own dear, _beloved_ family sat down that evening for their very first dinner together in the Hinamori home. They painted an interesting picture themselves, she thought, and eventually trying to figure out where she'd learnt that damned quote was all that was distracting her from the nail-biting tension that had settled itself across the table.

Ikuto was jiggling his leg agitatedly beneath the table beside her _('jig-jig-jig-jig-jig')_ and, honest to God, it was driving her mad. No one else seemed to be able to hear it, but the muffled tapping of his socks upon the hardwood floor landed on her ears like thunderclaps — deafening and maddening and all under her very nose. She kicked his ankle roughly. That stopped him. Ikuto shot a sideways look at her, frowning in confusion. He probably hadn't even realised he was doing it. Amu smiled, awkwardly and apologetically, before turning around to glance at the clock on the wall behind them.

' _8.15.'_

Only feet away in the kitchen, her mother was stood, arms folded, brows furrowed dangerously, watching the seconds tick by. At the end of the table, her father glanced almost desperately at his watch. Amu sighed. She could smell the food already prepared and steaming on the kitchen side. Honestly, it smelled glorious. If there was one thing she had always missed about living away from home it was her mother's cooking. It was true — no one cooked like mother did and yet here she was, sat at the table with an empty plate, the savoury smells of her favourite stew wafting teasingly under her nose, growing colder and colder by the minute…

When she looked back at the clock, it was 8.20. and Ikuto had started jiggling his leg again. She gnawed frustratedly on her lip.

 _('Jig-jig-jig-jig-jig.')_

If there was only _one_ thing — just _one!_ — that she was determined to do throughout the course of their married life together it would be to stamp that damned irritating habit out of him. But it probably wouldn't be tonight. In fact, the couple were starting to doubt whether they'd get through the night alive at all.

"Well," her father piped up eventually, nervously, and a small ray of hope flashed across Amu's face. "N-nothing we can do about it, dear! I-If she's late for dinner, she'll have to go without, y-yes?"

In the doorway, her mother looked murderous. Tsumugu quailed under her gaze — under those eyes that glinted like knives, piercing in the shadow that had fallen across her face. But, perhaps very luckily for her husband, Midori just huffed angrily and stomped back into the kitchen. Amu heard cutlery rattling in the drawers. It appeared her father had won.

When Midori reappeared, carrying the dishes of food with her, she slammed them down onto the table with an awful jolt, the table shuddering dangerously, and scowled at the clock again. " _Honestly,"_ she hissed lowly and Amu was reminded instantly that that was certainly something she _didn't_ miss. Whatever it was that Ami had done this time, Amu thought that she was a fool. Her mother was possibly the most easy-going parent she could have ever had, but it came at a price. Her mother only ever existed at one end of the spectrum — either as calm and light-hearted as a pleasant spring day... Or as dark and dangerous and _furious_ as an electric storm. There was no in-between. To ignite her ire so badly… Well, it was downright _idiotic._

Her mother roughly, carelessly dumped spoonfuls of food onto her plate, hardly caring as the gravy slopped onto her tablecloth or as the mashed potato flew across the table onto Amu's cheek. " _That Ami,"_ she growled. "I _told_ her! I _told_ her to hurry home now that we have _guests!"_

She looked pointedly at Amu and Ikuto, sat across from her, but neither said anything. At the head of the table, Tsumugu was shrinking in his seat, averting his eyes. Amu did too. Hell, even _Ikuto_ knew that making eye contact with his mother-in-law at that precise moment would have equalled instant death. Heads down, they turned to their plates as Midori fumed over her meal.

"Was I not _clear_ enough?" she went on, stabbing her fork onto her plate angrily. "Please, _dear_ , let me know sometime if perhaps I don't make myself plain enough! But, didn't I say so? Did I not _say_ to our daughter that I expected her home _before eight o'clock?"_

Amu's father had been chewing on a tough piece of meat when his wife's fiery gaze had landed upon him. He chewed frantically, his jaw working overtime in a way that might have been comical if he wasn't in serious danger of letting his silence stretch out too long. Amu watched, her heart thudding, listening to the seconds on the clock tick by…

But, apparently, he wasn't fast enough.

" _DEAR?"_

" _Y-Yes!"_ Tsumugu forced the last of his food down his throat, trying not to choke. He spluttered uselessly for a moment, thumping his chest. " _Yes, dear!"_ he coughed; "I h- _heard_ _you!_ Ami should have known better — eight o'clock on the dot!"

And he burst into another round of coughs and wheezes. Midori huffed and stood up from her seat so quickly that the seat screeched horrifically across the floorboards. She flounced, her aura still burning around her, into the kitchen to fetch him some water and Amu breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother would be back any minute, but _Lord_ just her brief absence was like a breath of fresh air…

Which, of course, didn't last. One problem, as ever in this house, only ever turned into another. Amu's eye twitched. Averting her eyes from the table, she could not only hear Ikuto's foot as it ' _tap-tap-tapped'_ on the floor beneath them, now she could _see_ it too. She grit her teeth.

 _('Jig-jig-jig-jig-jig.')_

"I hope," Ikuto leaned over as her mother stormed back into the room, distracted by her husband's choking. "That Ami isn't going to do this _every_ night."

Amu laughed drily under her breath. From what she'd heard, some nights her sister probably wouldn't be coming home at all. Actually, perhaps it would be a blessing if Ami didn't show her face tonight. Perhaps it would be easier. Or, at least, she could reappear later once she and Ikuto were safely tucked in bed, far away from the oncoming battle that would commence once her mother had gotten her hands on her little sister.

"No," Amu mumbled, "if Ami was going to show her face tonight, she would have done it already."

Ikuto hummed in what sounded like a half-agreement.

But, alas, it was not to be and not a moment later Amu wished she'd just kept her damn mouth shut.

The moment she heard the clicking of the lock on the front door she knew it was all over. The jingling of keys reached their ears; footsteps rang upon the steps leading up through the hallway. Amu saw Ikuto pale.

"I'm _HOOOOOOME~!"_

Midori slammed the glass down on the table with such force that her poor husband was sprayed with water. Her eyes flashed dangerously and Amu knew then that if there had ever been a time to flee… _It was now._ Amu's mother hissed.

" _Ami."_

" _MAMA~~!"_

Ami's sweet, sugary reply was an absolute contrast to the shuddering of boots and the chinking of oversized buckles. Floorboards thudding; heels clacking… And in walked Amu's baby sister. The couple at the table stared, jaws dropping in disbelief at the sight of the little delinquent that so casually ambled in and slumped down on the sofa, carelessly brushing the dirt off her jacket onto the crisp white throw. Amu had known that her sister had… _rebelled_ as of late, but this…

This was like nothing she'd ever expected.

" _Ami?"_

Ami looked up from beneath her low fringe (wait, wasn't her hair _brunette_ the light time she'd seen her?), her honey-coloured eyes stark against dark eyeshadow and thick liner. She thought for a moment.

"Oh," she muttered, mostly to herself; "that was tonight, yeah?"

" _Ami!"_ Midori's voice was as cold as a winter gale. "What time do you call _this,_ young lady?"

Amu and Ikuto watched with baited breath, eyes flickering between the two. Ami shrugged, slipping off her leather jacket and tossing it over the back of the seat. Midori's eye twitched and Amu slid her plate closer to her chest, somehow convinced that any moment now it would be necessary to use it as a makeshift shield. In response to their mother's question, Ami merely pointed dumbly at the clock on the wall. Midori emitted something akin to a low snarl.

" _Answer me, Ami!"_

" _Goddd..!"_ Ami tipped her head across the back of the sofa and rolled her pretty eyes. " _Mum!"_ she groaned; "It's barely even _nine,_ let me _live a little!"_

" _Well!"_ Midori snapped, snatching up the abandoned jacket and pointing a finger dangerously at her daughter. "If you're going to live in _this_ house, madam, you ought to start showing your family some _respect!_ When I tell you to come back at eight o'clock, _Ami, you come back at eight o'clock!_ And get your boots off my cushions — we have company over!"

" _OH MY GOD, MUM!"_

Midori was frantically brushing muck and dirt from her clean, _white_ sofa, having yanked Ami bodily out of her seat down only seconds before. She ' _tsk'_ d under her breath and ignored the protests of her pouty child.

"Perhaps," Amu spoke up from the table warily, swallowing thickly, feeling as though she was treading on eggshells as her "P-Perhaps…"

She trailed off pathetically. Every eye fell upon her. Ami looked almost amused. Her mother raised a single eyebrow and Amu laughed nervously.

" _Oh, would you look at the time! Perhaps it's time to get settled in for the night!"_

" _Great,_ mum! You're scaring _Amu_ off now!"

Midori whirled back on her daughter. "Amu-chan and Ikuto are _guests_ in our house and you will _not_ show me up in front of them, young lady!"

If Amu had been cool n' spicy, then Ami was hot and dangerous. She snarled, stomping over and picking up a spoon, fishing out a piece of meat from the pot of stew on the table. Ikuto dodged as a spot of gravy flew towards him. Amu looked towards him and immediately wished she hadn't. He was still jigging his knee.

 _('Jig-jig-jig-jig-jig.')_

" _Ikuto_ —"

"What?"

 _('Jig-jig-jig-jig-jig.')_

"Ikuto, could you _please_ —"

" _AMI! You want to eat in this house from now on, you cook it yourself!"_

"Mum, are you trying to _starve me?"_

" _Put that down, Ami! Papa! Back me up!"_

"A-A-A-Ami d-dearest—"

"Dad, don't listen to her! She's overreacting!"

" _AMI! Upstairs!"_

Ami just snorted and plonked herself down at the table. "No way, man, this shit's good!"

Amu's head fell into her hand. She tried to breathe, tried to focus on _anything_ other than the escalating shouting match raging across the table from her… Except…

 _('Jig-jig-jig-jig-jig.')_

" _Oh_ — _ENOUGH!"_ Amu snapped, locking her fingers in a vice-like grip onto her husband's thigh. A silence fell almost instantaneously. Midori cut off mid-sentence. Ami cast her a cheeky smirk.

Ikuto drew a sharp breath. " _Amu…"_

And, of course, her father's eyes fell upon her hand. All colour left him. A strangled sort of splutter left his lips;

" _A-A-Am-mu-chann_ —!"

And in a matter of mere seconds, blue in the face, he began to choke again.

-l-l-

There was a problem with their new bed, they found, shortly after retiring upstairs for their first night in the Hinamori home.

It _creaked_.

Seriously, with every little shift, every breath, every tousle they made it would screech and shudder and _moan_ like a rusty door hinge caught in a gale. Honestly, Amu thought her parents had planned this. Really, it sounded just like one of her Mama's cunning plans to put an end to any late-night shenanigans going on in her home and, whilst Amu admitted that this was _not_ the kind of thing she had envisioned keeping her up all night, it was possibly the most irritating, infuriating, _exhausting_ little issue she had encountered back at her parent's house so far. All she or her husband could do was to lie perfectly still and pray that the mattress would improve with some use.

Sounds simple, yes?

Well, no. _Oh_ no, no. Amu could see many sleepless nights ahead over the coming weeks. She may have been able to put up with the task of having to fall asleep as still as a dead log, but Ikuto happened to be a shifter. She was sure that she deserved some sort of medal for sharing a bed with him. The moment his head hit the pillow — that was when it began. He would roll; he would stretch; he'd shift and shuffle his way across the mattress like some sort of weird heat-seeking sidewinder until he'd reached his goal which was usually to wrap himself bodily around her and wake up in an extraordinary tangle of limbs that Amu had never even thought possible.

Her heart thumped in her chest. Trust him to be a cuddler. She subconsciously shook her head against the pillow as if it would wipe away her growing blush.

 _Screeek—_

She stilled immediately. This would be a challenge.

Amu frowned and tried not to sigh for fear of kicking the rickety springs into action again. Beside her, Ikuto shifted onto his side.

 _Screeeeeeekk_ —

The sound was like the teeth-grinding scraping of ice or the squeal of an iron gate rusted beyond repair. And then a pause. A sigh, but before she could relax, Amu felt the man tense up beside her. She looked to the ceiling and began to pray.

 _'Don't do it, Ikuto...'_

And then;

 _ScreeeeeeEEEEE—_

 _"GOD DAMN IT!"_ Ikuto shot bolt upright in bed, ignoring the deafening squeal of the springs below them. _"I can't do it!"_

Amu sighed heavily and rolled over to face him. "Well maybe if you'd stop _moving_ —"

"What is this, like, thirty years old?" He wasn't listening. He twisted and began inspecting the discoloured bars that made up the bed-frame. "I have _work_ tomorrow," he went on angrily, sinking back into the sheets and gritting his teeth over the sound of screeching metal. "I have to be in the studio by seven — this isn't going to work!"

Amu's lips twitched. "So sleep on the sofa."

Ikuto pretended to pout at her, an amused glint in his eyes that had her grinning.

 _"Amuuu..."_

"Mm?"

It was hard to pretend to be annoyed with him as he pulled her close and enveloped her in a warm embrace. Her eyes fluttered closed. He smelled earthy like the varnish he so carefully used to maintain his violin, yet from somewhere hints of peppermint and the scent of fresh laundry reached her and it was the most comforting thing she'd ever known. Whether she realised it or not, her frustration was soothing by the second and she swore she could have melted into him right then and there.

"You wouldn't put me on the _sofa_ , Amu? You wouldn't send me _downstairs,_ would you?" The mock-hurt in his voice had her biting back another smile, even with the sound of the bed as it protested beneath them. "You wouldn't send me downstairs at _home."_

"We had an apartment, you moron. A cunning scheme of yours, no doubt."

Ikuto chuckled softly and the two settled into a comfortable silence, uninterrupted even by their troublesome mattress. The only sounds that reached them during those peaceful few minutes was the rumble of the few cars in the distance and the faint, yet recognisable tune of one of Ami's favourite rock bands pounding away in her room on the other side of the house. Amu didn't know how her parents slept through it at night.

Ikuto must have been thinking the same thing. "Your sister's become a badass." he said quietly. "It's unsettling."

Amu snorted. "She's just going through a rebellious stage. Mama tries to act tough, but she's at her wits ends about it. It's disrespectful of Ami to act up like that!"

Ikuto hummed in thought.

" _Oh God,"_ Amu suddenly groaned, clutching at her head as if struck by terror, rolling back down onto the mattress and sending the springs into another chorus of ear-piercing creaks and squeaks. Ikuto raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm starting to _sound_ like Mama!" she exclaimed.

Beside her, Ikuto was desperately trying to stifle an onslaught of laughter.

" _I'm not old enough to sound like Mama!_ I'm only twenty-five! Where have the years _gone_ , Ikuto?" She turned to glare at her husband who at this point had given up all attempt at holding back his amusement and was now quite freely snickering away beside her. " _Ikuto!"_ she roughly grabbed her pillow and attempted to whack him around the face with it. " _I'm serious!_ One day you're going to wake up and find me an old lady lying next to you!"

" _Amu,"_ Ikuto fought to get his breath back, dodging out of the way as another pillow came flying towards him. "Amu, you still drink milk after baths, I wouldn't be surprised."

" _Ikuto!"_

The man managed to pull the abused pillow from his wife's grasp as she attempted a third-time-lucky hit and threw it aside. Sitting up and ignoring the grating metal beneath them, he drew her close to his chest, unfazed by her attempts of escape, and kissed her forehead.

"But," he whispered against her hair; " _that's the plan."_

Amu stilled almost immediately, craning her head back to look him in the eye. Her fury was gone, the angry fire in her heart quenched. Amu gaped wordlessly for a moment before resigning herself to her fate, going limp in his arms and groaning;

" _Ikuto..!_ Stop being so charming when I'm pissed off!"

She just felt him smirk against the top of her head.

God. How did he do it? How did he make her heart pound so fiercely or her soul soar so high and free? Amu cursed. How did he manage to be so damned infuriating and yet so utterly, completely sweet and loving at the same time? Just _how?_

Amu would never figure it out. But she'd never have it any other way.

"But first," Ikuto went on, his voice muffled and low, his breath light; "before that day comes — before we can even think of growing any older together… You've gotta help me out, Amu, because I'm not sure I'm going to survive your family shenanigans."

Amu laughed lightly. "No," she whispered; "me neither."

Ikuto let out a humourless chuckle. "Well," he muttered as the two of them settled back down into the warmth of their bed, the springs still squealing and the frame still rattling and the bass of Ami's damned awful music still thumping away in the background. "One day down." Ikuto hummed and it was possibly the most positive thing he'd said about the entire situation so far. "It's better than nothing."

Amu hummed, her eyes finally starting to grow heavy, her mind finally starting to drift;

"And just ninety left to go…"

-l-l-


End file.
